<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Personal Matter by AquatiiicColony</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22882096">A Personal Matter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquatiiicColony/pseuds/AquatiiicColony'>AquatiiicColony</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cartoon Network Universe: FusionFall, Powerpuff Girls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blossom has loads of turmoil and guilt, Drabble, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Gen, Guilt, Loads of bottled up feelings about her sister, Responsibility</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:00:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,591</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22882096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquatiiicColony/pseuds/AquatiiicColony</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when you try and move on, even when you think you have moved on, something will always come to bite you in your backside and tell you wrong.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blossom Utonium &amp; Bubbles Utonium &amp; Buttercup Utonium</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Personal Matter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Aye there! This is actually a drabble I have written four weeks ago, and I wrote this in inspiration from the New Nano update from FusionFall Retro. To be honest, the Belladonna nano mission was one of my favorites and I love how we have finally reached the conclusion for Buttercup and everything (I'm so proud of her hnngh). Anywho, one of my headcanons is that Blossom visited the records during Buttercup's disappearance, and this is where you can read the angst huehue. Hope you all enjoy it and give this Powerpuff leader a hug!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Harada-Bridges Records.</em> It was the collaborative building that showcased several musicians, bands, and any person that has musical talent. Posters of bands are plastered all outside of the glimmering, seemingly tall building that sat in the heart of the massive, usually monster-infested city of Townsville, ranging from ones that are well known, ones that aren’t well known, and ones that the Powerpuff leader cannot help but raise an eyebrow at. Seriously, even the <em>Gangreen Gang</em> had their own band poster - and they were previously more like a band of criminals than an actual band!</p><p>…But that wasn’t why she was here. That wasn’t why she decided to depart from her usual position in the Sector V treehouse without a single wink or mention of the place towards her peers. It was more of something far more personal, and it didn’t take long for her magenta eyes to trail upward to the holographic screening showing more of the posters up close, and one of them had to cause her chest to tighten.</p><p>It was a picture of herself, where a cheerful grin used to grace her face, and in her arms was a guitar. The person behind her was none other than the optimistic, considered <em>“youngest”</em> of the two; Bubbles. Two drumsticks were held into each of her hands, and if you manage to squint, they were gripped so hard that it must have made the blonde’s knuckles turn paperwhite. Regardless of that, however, she was smiling too and looking prepared to smack the cymbals of her drum-set.</p><p>Though, one person was missing from this picture. One of a certain green-eyed, normally hot-headed member of the trio, and although Blossom can understand why, why the missing Powerpuff is removed from the poster, it still made her fingers curl up under her palm, and enclosed all ten of her fingers into fists. Her eyebrows narrowed, and a rush of rapid breaths escaped from her mouth, enough to cause her face to redden, both from the sudden emotional turmoil and of the thoughts that are bouncing around in her brain.</p><p>She may have been outside, but it felt like she needed <em>air.</em></p><p>Allowing herself to use her super-hearing to listen to the birds chirping, the leaves rustling in the wind, her own long mane of combed hair whipping against her back, and she clamped her eyes shut, as if the entire world, as if the weight of the war, as if the war itself, was nothing but a figment of her imagination. And as much as she wanted to believe that, she knew it <em>isn’t</em> true. But, she would like to imagine it like that for just one short nanosecond.</p><p>After breathing through her nose, basking in the silence for just one more time, she took a step forward, crushing pebbles under the soles of her polished, Mary-Jane shoes. The footsteps slamming under the concrete sounded louder than her own heartbeat, like the ticking of a time bomb, and she tried not to think of it that way. Gosh, how she tried <em>not</em> to, and so desperately not to. It seemed like an entirety before she placed a delicate palm against the paper-thin glass door of the building.</p><p>…She hasn’t been here since… since the grand opening, maybe. It felt like <em>ages </em>ago since then, and it made the ache in her chest strengthen, strengthened enough that her breathing hitched, but instead of taking a step back, she took a step forward and pushed the door open, welcoming the cool air to nip at her skin. Strangely enough, it felt less welcoming and more to seep the coldness of the air into her bones, encasing them in ice just like her gifted ice breath.</p><p>A long red carpet greeted her in the entrance, and if she were to pinpoint her gaze to the walls, she can find famous records hanging up, and even a few of the posters that she has seen from the outside (again, how in the world the Gangreen Gang managed to get their band shown in here was beyond her). Some doors led to numerous rooms, possibly for each band that has ever made it in here. There could have been some records studios too, as well as ones for lessons and the like.</p><p>Still, as greeting as that might be, the temperature of the air-conditioner that regulates the building as to not make the air too stiff, along with the solid fact that she might be the only person here, the pink-clad teenager felt uncomfortable. It was like the memories of the past were watching her back, and that she cannot defend herself against them; that she was <em>powerless</em> against them.</p><p>But she isn’t. She <em>is</em> powerful against them, and she is not going to let the past torment her. This was just a small visit to the records, to see the <em>Love Makes The World Go Round</em> poster; nothing more. Her long, skinny legs made the first move to walk down the silent halls like they were acting on auto-pilot while the mind of the superheroine was elsewhere.</p><p>Reaching down the hall, all she had to do was shift her head to the left, and find the poster she was looking for; right in front of her. Right behind the model display of <em>Sunny Bridges Auditorium,</em> there was the poster. The poster that the girl would be reminded of every single time she has flown by in the city. The poster that reminded her of her missing sister, and just like that, she dashed across the room, locking her pair of eyes with the poster. The poster that, unlike the one from outside, has Buttercup present in it.</p><p>She looked just as happy as her sisters, carrying a green guitar as well. It only opened more memories for Blossom. One of a mime that drained all of the color and life out of Townsville, and how <em>Bubbles</em> was the one who brought it all back with a song. It was a song that shook the town and now has shaken the world. Now here it stood with a description under it, possibly detailing of how famous the song is, and how it reminded everyone of the superheroes that saved their city and the world time and again.</p><p>Blossom reached out a hand, extending her arm out as to touch the poster. Once her palm rested against it, tears started blurring her vision and making her eyes appear so glassy that they are considered fragile. A few sniffles were all she can manage to do, as well as tears clinging onto her cheeks and sliding off of her chin.</p><p><em>“…Buttercup,”</em> she choked out, her vocal cords straining to say something more than just that name. The name that haunted her since the incident. Yet, there was nothing more that could be said. There was nothing more that she could do, and how she <em>hated</em> it.</p><p>She should have done something to prevent it all from happening. She should have listened to her sister. She should have moved out of the way. She should have not let Buttercup take the brunt of the hit. She should have not let Buttercup crash into the ocean. She should have done this or that, and it was all her fault. She should have been a more responsible leader, a more responsible sister, and now? Now she is <em>paying</em> for it.</p><p>She shoved her hands into her face, concealing her face from the world, and she planted her knees onto the floor, giving in to all of the repressed emotions, and hunching forward as more sobs racked her body. It hurt. It hurt to the point where she cannot describe how hurt she is. It is the kind of hurt that cannot be described with words, and only <em>she</em> can know what that truly feels like.</p><p>But before she does anything else before she can break down completely, the sound of footsteps entering the room silenced her sobbing, and she turned her tear-stained face to see a solemn frown on her sister’s face. <em>Bubbles’</em> face.</p><p>
  <em>“Blossom…”</em>
</p><p>What was there to be said? What was there that she could have said to her? She wasn’t so sure yet, nor sure of herself yet. All the blonde could do so far was intertwine her twitchy fingers together, having all of them drum on the back of her hands. There were no sounds made except for Blossom’s staggering breathing and Bubbles’ calmer breathing.</p><p>Hardly a second went by until the sweetheart of the two moved forward, not having a trail of her signature light follow her, and not moving fast enough so that she can tackle her sister with a hug. Instead of that, instead of shoving her concern in the leader’s face, she moved with slow and considerate footsteps, as to not disturb Blossom from her emotional breakdown.</p><p>The noise of her footsteps may have bounced off the walls, but it wasn’t enough to make Blossom jump or turn away, and that was all she needed as she knelt down to her fallen sister and slink her arms around her, propping her head to rest against her shoulder. She did not care if her sleeve will become drenched with tears and snot; all that mattered to her was that Blossom can have some comfort.</p><p>Blossom returned the gesture, pouring her heart out once more as she cried, and Bubbles allowed her to, not daring to shush her.</p><p>“…I miss her, Bubbles.”</p><p>“…I miss her too, Blossom.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>